//------------------------------// // The Gathering Dark // Story: Marks of Harmony // by Lapis-Lazuli and Stitch //------------------------------// Gdocs Version Marks of Harmony Part 5 Celestia was pacing up to her throne, down the stairs to the end of the hall, and back again. Her usual guards were not present. It would be beyond catastrophic if word spread that the Princess of the Sun was disheveled. Even Celestia herself likely wished it were not true. “Quit pacing,” Luna, her sister and Princess of the Night, said. “Thou art accomplishing nothing doing thus. Sit, organize thy thoughts, and speaketh aloud about whatever bothereth thou.” It was sound advice, but Celestia clearly believed that sitting and doing nothing more than thinking was a crime in and of itself at the moment. “I can’t Luna,” Celestia replied. “Cannot what?” Luna asked probingly. “Canst not sit, canst not think, or canst not speak of it?” “All three,” Celestia said, losing a bit of calm. “This is the way I sort out my next move when trouble has risen.” “Oh, yes, and it hath always worked well hath it not?” Luna asked sarcastically. “If I remembereth correctly, thy answer to most of the major Equestrian problems of late hath been those ponies that now represent the Elements of Harmony.” “And so what if they have?” Celestia fired back. “Their skills and powers have always been able to save us. It’s not my fault that all of our foes have been vulnerable to the Elements.” “Oh, wouldst thou please cease from using that horrid, vulgar dialect,” Luna said. “Tryest to speak more properly.” “My speech is the least of our problems,” Celestia glowered at her sister. “It is not to us,” Luna replied frustrated, “since thou refuseth to tell us what is bothering thou so.” “Your friend from so long ago is gone!” Celestia cracked, the concern bleeding from her expression. “Yes, thou needst not remind us that all those we knew art dead,” Luna said lowly, hanging her head. “No, your close friend is escaped! I have no idea how she has done it, or what she wants. She hasn’t made any demands,” Celestia attempted to explain. “Oh! Wouldst thou please ceaseth from using those awful contractions!” Luna insisted. “And we still knoweth not of whom thou art speaking.” “Aurora! Aurora Streak has disappeared from her land of exile!” Celestia was now nearly shouting directly in Luna’s face. “We were not aware thou hadst cast her out in first place,” Luna said mildly, pointedly motioning for her sister to back away. “Why didst thou?” Celestia was not normally one to give into sarcasm, either in words or appearance (that was Luna’s own domain when they were together), but Luna’s comment caused her sister to raise her brows in cynical disbelief. “Well, that wast a mistake, and as she told us, ‘Mistakes are often made in new fields of research.’,” Luna defended herself. “It was the largest mistake Equestria has ever seen!” Celestia was beginning to shout again. “And even after a thousand years, ponies across the land still have fear because of it.” “It is ‘one thousand’, not ‘a thousand’, sister,” Luna corrected. “But even if it wast a grand error on her part, we were the only subject. Nopony else wast harmed by her directly.” “She lied to you and to me when she told us that she was not testing on other ponies,” Celestia said lowly, bowing her head. “When we finally arrested her, we discovered her notes on other subjects. They had not had the full procedure like you, but she had been experimenting on at least twenty other ponies beforehand.” “Oh...” was all Luna could say. “Exactly,” Celestia continued. “And she’s escaped with who knows what and we won’t know the details until her guards have returned safely with the rescue team.” “But surely she wilt stay away from that field after what transpired,” Luna said. “I am sure she will,” Celestia said, “but my worry is for the Elements of Harmony. I remember a lot of what her notes said, and more than a few of those six are enough of an enigma to reignite her interest. And now she has trapped them all within Ponyville and I have not the slightest idea on how to save them.” Luna’s sister exchanged pacing to gaze out one of the stained glass windows pointing toward Ponyville. Though the colors of the land and sky were distorted by its many hues, the pink sphere of magical power now guarding Ponyville glared brightly through every pane. Luna grimaced at her sister’s extended use of contractions, but said nothing of it. It did indeed seem trivial now that she knew the full extent of Celestia’s worry. Instead, she spoke, “It wouldst not surprise us if that were indeed the case, but thou canst not continue to handle this alone. An aurora is the power of the sun reflected in the night, so she is a responsibility for us both. Let us help, and this will be over with greater haste.” “Thank you,” Celestia said, “I should have done as much in the first place.” “Then let us make thee a suggestion,” Luna pressed. Celestia nodded her approval and Luna continued, “We knowest Aurora is stubborn and spiteful, and she wilt not listen to reason when set upon her goal, especially by us and thee. As much as it pains our heart to suggest this, we must pressure her into speaking with us.” “How do you want to go about it Luna?” Celestia asked. “You do know her better than me after all.” “We must assembleth the old Armies of the Sun and Moon, and march before her,” Luna replied gravely. “She wilt only submit to respectable negotiations if she hath already been beaten in power.” “I can see why you were worried about his now,” Celestia said stoutly, “but as no other course of action has presented itself to me, I must do something. Send out the call for all of your generals to assemble their forces and to meet at Canterlot. I will do the same with mine. Please inform them of the situation though. If this is to succeed, the last thing we need is our soldiers attempting to start another war between us.” “Thy concerns are duly noted sister,” Luna said. “Shall we meet again tonight after I have raised the Moon?” “It would be as good a time as ever,” Celestia replied. “May we both have luck on our side.” Luna nodded her agreement before exiting to the Royal Balcony and leaping into the sky for her own keeps across Equestria. ______________________________________________________________________________ Twilight was not a pony for dramatics. That was everypony else’s domain, except for perhaps Applejack. But as her eyes were finally able to greet the lush and fresh scenery of Ponyville, she breathed in a great, theatrical rush of green-scented air. The lift was taking her back to her home on the ground, and she had never thought she would be more grateful for the town. With that love though came a strong desire for its safety. While Aurora’s magical invention did not seem to have an evil or ulterior purpose, its creator most certainly did. Aurora knew too much for her eyes to not be set upon something larger than the simple improvement of pony lives. With her gathering distance from the ship, Twilight gradually allowed herself to become acquainted with her magic once again, and with that resurgence of power, she burst into a full gallop for the library. Any of her friends would be waiting there for her, and it was them—her fellow Elements of Harmony—that she could trust implicitly with her revelations. Twilight considered it odd that nopony else was waiting for her, or at least had come out to greet her, but likely they were still fearful of the ship and anything that emerged from it. This was proved false as a worried shout from behind prompted a break in what had only just become a gallop. Twilight whipped around, only to be confronted with the mayor of Ponyville; her normally complacent face marked by serious concern for what Twilight might tell her. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, coming down from the Town Hall, “I know you must be eager to confide in your friends. Anypony would be. But, since Aurora chose you as ambassador for us, I need to know what her demands were.” It struck Twilight then that Aurora’s tactful abilities—at least in the area of social relations—were sorely lacking. Taking the time to view the whole set of events as a normal pony rather than an Element of Harmony and student of Celestia, and Twilight could easily see how it appeared to be a hostage situation. “You shouldn’t worry about demands, Mayor,” Twilight said respectfully. “I don’t trust Aurora herself, but she is not interested in making demands.” “Then why place a field nopony can escape around the town?” the mayor asked legitimately. “It’s only a theory,” Twilight ventured carefully, “but I think she might be afraid of the princesses for some reason. I don’t think she wants to hurt us, I just don’t think she wants Celestia alerted by us. She really didn’t tell me what she intends to do here, but she will be performing a demonstration tomorrow. For the sake of appearances, I’d suggest spreading the word that everypony should intend. I’ll do my best to work this out, but I can’t have her becoming paranoid before I’m finished.” “Consider it done Twilight Sparkle,” the mayor replied with a nod. “This will at least calm some ponies down. Good luck.” “Thanks,” Twilight nodded, breaking off again and hoping to not be interrupted again before she reached the library. As she approached a turn onto the library’s street, she slammed right into somepony. Twilight was jolted back onto her rump, and both she and her unfortunate victim let out small grunts of bruising. Twilight shook her head to clear it of a little dizziness, immediately checking on the state of her dress. Rarity might be understanding if it was damaged, but the chances were rather slim. Before Twilight could turn to face the pony she had run into, they said with relieved shock and joy, “Twilight!” She knew that voice. Her head whipped around to behold her dragon charge. Spike’s eyes were as wide as they possibly could be, and he was staring at Twilight as if she were Celestia. “You’re okay!” he exploded, running forward to embrace her. “Yes, I’m just fine,” Twilight chuckled gratefully, glad to be back within the loving atmosphere of friends. “How are you and everypony else?” “I’m doin’ great now that you’re back,” Spike said. “That was shorter than I thought it’d be.” “You’re telling me,” Twilight said, mentally exhausted. “It was more than enough to convince me of what we need to do though.” “That doesn’t sound good,” Spike replied, picking up on her undertone of apprehension. “It’s not,” Twilight said briefly. “We need to talk in the library. Do you know where everypony else is?” “I just came from Rarity’s” Spike answered. “She should be there. I’ve got no idea where Pinkie and the rest are.” “That’s fine,” Twilight said, feeling almost rushed. “They might actually be at the library waiting on me. If you could go and bring Rarity there, that would be great.” “Okay, but, what’s goin’ on Twilight?” Spike said. “It’s complicated,” she replied, not wanting to say too much out in the open. “All I’ll say out here is that we have to be careful.” “Hm,” Spike grunted, his eyes narrowing as they always did when he was in deep thought. “How much trouble are we in Twilight?” he eventually asked. “I don’t want to say out in the open,” Twilight whispered in his ear. “I promise I’ll explain back at the library.” “Things aren’t good are they?” Spike read her easily. Twilight merely nodded her head in reply, continuing to her home at a trot. As she moved toward the homely library she had come to consider her place of solace, she was both grateful and slightly hurt that no pony was gathered before it to welcome her back. Of course, it would make gathering her friends together for a rather clandestine meeting that much easier. However, the lack of ponies wanting to wish her well and know the details of her visit to the ship created the feeling that Ponyville cared no more for her. She angrily brushed this sentiment aside as selfish and ridiculous. Maybe it was simply her lack of contact with her close friends that was dampening her spirits. Yes, that must be it, for the very thought of being able to talk with them about her experience with Aurora and Inky Jay brought a measure of relief to her soul. She wondered how anypony could internalize so much; how they could not want to find solace in their friends. A light touch of magic opened the door to the library, which she had expected to be empty for the time being. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Applejack sitting quietly in a corner staring fixedly at the floor while Pinkie Pie paced across the middle of the center of the room nervously chatting to herself. Her voice was so hushed and fast-paced, Twilight could decipher none of it. Applejack was the first to notice Twilight’s entrance. “Twi!” she shouted, astounded and thrilled to see her. In a moment, her expression of relief shifted to one of serious alarm. “Pinkie!” she exclaimed, still gazing at Twilight. “We got ourselves a problem!” “Problem! What?! Where!? Is Dashie okay!?” Pinkie exploded from her pacing, questioning Applejack with a dangerous intensity. “Twilight’s back and Dash ain’t,” Applejack said seriously, pointing Pinkie to Twilight, who was still standing bewildered in the entrance. “Wait, what is going on here?” Twilight asked, irritated. “What is happening with Rainbow Dash?” “Well...” Applejack said slowly and reluctantly. “Gahhhh!” Pinkie interrupted upon seeing Twilight. “This is bad! This is really bad!” Rather than try to garner any more information from Pinkie or Applejack with words—which likely would not have worked with Pinkie Pie anyway—she glared solidly at the two of them. Pinkie backed up to stand right beside Applejack, and when she did not speak, nudged her significantly with her back leg. Applejack breathed out defeatedly, it clear she would rather not speak, “After Dash found out tha’ ya would be goin’ up inta tha thingamajig, she asked me an’ Big Mac ta help her get in ta help ya.” Twilight’s look of irritation at being left out immediately melted. Just before she had been lamenting the lack of support from everypony, and here now was a prime example of why she should not doubt her friends. “On such short notice, me an’ Big Mac weren’ able to make tha catapult she wanted.” “So I gave everypony my Party Cannon!” Pinkie cut in, enthusiastic and proud of her apparent ingenuity. “Um, that doesn’t make any sense Pinkie,” Twilight said, only realizing after how normal that was. “Of course it does!” Pinkie retorted, frustrated that Twilight was not grasping the relevance. “How else would we fling Dashie up into the ship?” “You what!?” Twilight burst out, now aware of why both of her friends were so concerned. If Rainbow had been trying to find her, she would not now, and Aurora did not seem like a pony to take trespassers lightly. Especially since she already knew Rainbow and had a general dislike of her. “You should have told me!” Twilight stressed, rushing around the library as quickly as the dress would allow. “We could have set up a meet time or something. Aurora—that’s her name—let me go unattended to the exit. I could have tried to pick her up or something.” “Twi, stop killin’ yerself over it,” Applejack said, holding out a hoof to stop her frantic movement. “You don’ know tha inside o’ tha’ thang any more ‘n Rainbow Dash does.” “But she’s still stuck up there probably looking for me,” Twilight said, ducking beneath Applejack’s hoof. “If Aurora finds her... I don’t even want to think about it.” “Oh man Dashie,” Pinkie said, returning to pacing to burn off her nervous energy. It was not long after Twilight had gathered all of her ingredients onto one of her work benches that Spike, Rarity, and Fluttershy entered. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the pacing Pinkie Pie. “I’m glad you managed to find everypony else,” Spike said awkwardly, “but what in Celestia’s name is Pinkie doing?” “Are you okay Pinkie?” Fluttershy asked. “Twilight dear, it’s relieving to see you in good health after coming off that dreadful piece of filth,” Rarity completely ignored Pinkie, taking her pacing for nothing more than the usual oddity of Pinkie’s bearing. “Rainbow Dash is going to die!” Pinkie answered Fluttershy and Spike boisterously before Twilight could reply to Rarity. Both Fluttershy and Rarity gasped in shock, but Spike and Twilight shared a knowing look that prevented him from reacting. “I think Aurora—the allicorn—would sooner capture her,” Twilight consoled Pinkie and her new rapt audience of two. “Would you mind explaining Applejack? I can’t talk and make this stuff at the same time.” “What is it you’re making?” Spike asked inquisitively, leaning up to see the book she had laid open beside her vials and jars. “A puffing powder,” Twilight said simply. “Don’t talk to me.” She ever so gently knocked a portion of an odd orange, grainy powder into a mortar, adding a purple liquid to it before beginning to grind it with the pestle. Fluttershy and Rarity were now beginning to calm down; well, at least Rarity was more composed. Fluttershy was now shaking from the idea of Rainbow being stuck on the ship with Aurora rather than being dead. “Whatever gave her that completely ridiculous idea?” Rarity asked Applejack once she had finished. “I got no idear,” Applejack answered with a wave of a hoof. “But it woulda been nice for Twilight ta have some company. Right Twi?” “Hm, um, yes it would have,” Twilight answered absently, not even entirely sure what the question had been. “It was supposed ta be quick an’ easy,” Applejack continued to Rarity’s still unconvinced expression. “In an’ out. This warn’t ever supposed ta happen. An’ she woulda done it anyhow. Better tha’ I was there to keep ‘em from killin’ themselves in tha process.” “I suppose,” Rarity moved to the back of the library with Applejack, “but she should never have thought she could do something like this in the first place.” “But... Rainbow Dash really doesn’t... um... you know... think... before she does something,” Fluttershy said, doing her best to not sound offensive. “Well of course she doesn’t think before doing something silly,” Pinkie said to Fluttershy. “I don’t either! Look how similar we are!” Pinkie stood in a dramatic pose, attempting and failing to replicate Rainbow Dash’s charisma. “Pinkie Pie, I really don’t think you two are anything alike,” Rarity said kindly. “I’m almost done here,” Twilight said to the room at large. “Everypony quiet while I—!” She and Rarity both yelped as the window on the second floor exploded in a flying storm of glass. Fluttershy slid beneath the table, but both Applejack and Pinkie Pie burst into exclamation for a different reason. They rushed up the stairs to Rainbow Dash, who was collapsed with heaving breath on the second floor. Twilight recovered before her other two friends. Checking that her concoction was still stable, she left the bench to check on Rainbow’s condition. Spike followed her, but was forced to slow as his scales allowed him to mindlessly crunch broken glass beneath his feet. Applejack and Pinkie were just supporting Rainbow into standing when Twilight came to the top of the stairs, and Twilight involuntarily recoiled at the sight of the sky-blue pegasus. Twilight had of course seen Rainbow after a crash or some other failed endeavor, and her present appearance was significantly better than those other instances. There was something debilitated about Rainbow’s face and body. She seemed to have lost all energy of any kind. Her face particularly was drained of its normal enthusiasm: her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth was thin, and her ears were drooping. Only after recovering from the initial hesitation at her friend’s appearance did Twilight begin to observe the obtrusive details. Rainbow’s front right hoof was coated in a semi-dry green viscous slime and her left front hoof was marked by two nearly invisible, evenly placed puncture marks. “Sweet Celestia!” Rarity exclaimed upon coming up next to Twilight. “Rainbow Dash dear, what is the matter?” “Outa tha way Rarity!” Applejack said forcefully, shoving past the two of them to help Pinkie carry Rainbow Dash downstairs. They heaved their nearly unconscious friend onto the reading sofa, Twilight moving in close to more carefully examine the puncture wounds. “Can you talk Rainbow Dash? Can you hear me?” Twilight asked tentatively. Rainbow eyes only dilated freakishly before settling back to normal. “Is she gonna be okay?!” Pinkie asked, shaking from anxiety and the inability to do nothing for Rainbow. “I can’t be sure,” Twilight said. “Fluttershy, I need your help.” “Yo... you... do?” Fluttershy asked nervously, peeking her head out from beneath the work bench. “Yes,” Twilight said, emotionless. Rainbow’s condition was rapidly deteriorating from whatever toxin had been injected into her, and—judging by the marks—an animal of some kind had been the culprit. Among the five of them, Fluttershy was the most knowledgeable of animals and their traits. “Rarity, can you get me out of this dress while Fluttershy and I work?” “Of course dear,” Rarity said, her voice strained from the tension gathering in the library. With Rarity’s expert manipulation of the fabric under magic, Twilight barely felt the clothes slip away as Fluttershy timidly joined her beside Rainbow. “Can you tell me what kind of creature would make marks like that?” Twilight asked, pointing her hoof towards the wounds. Fluttershy, along with Applejack and Pinkie, knelt closer to better see the shape of the punctures. “Goshgeewillikers!” Applejack said, astounded. “I hadn’ notiece ‘em until now!” “That doesn’t make any sense,” Pinkie agreed. “There aren’t any animals on that thingy.” “There might be,” Twilight corrected her. “It is so much bigger on the inside than it even is on the outside.” “These bites didn’t come from an animal,” Fluttershy said softly; too soft for any of them to hear. “Say ‘gain,” Applejack spoke for them all. “She wasn’t bitten by any animal I know,” Fluttershy repeated, more audible this time. “A snake bite is bigger and farther apart,” she elaborated, encouraged by their eager faces. “These look familiar for some reason, but, oh, I just can’t place them.” “Hive...” Rainbow wheezed, her eyes dilating momentarily once again. Only, once the pupils had returned to their normal size, the iris was beginning to fade from magenta to sky blue. “Surely not!” Rarity burst out, being the first to make the vague connection. “It can’t be them,” Twilight murmured her assent. “I think their snouts are narrow enough...” Fluttershy said, though she halted when she realized just exactly what she was implying. “But it could be... well... I don’t want to think...” “Spike, my notes,” Twilight said, turning to her dragon charge; who up until then had been clamoring vainly to see around his pony friends. “And that isn’t unhelpful at all,” he replied irritably. “The ones on the Changelings that Celestia sent me,” Twilight elaborated after Spike waved his hands for more directions. His retrieval was rather quick, as the notes in question happened to be at the top of the stack of paper that was Twilight’s records. He offered them up as a set, but Twilight was concerned only with a single page. She swiftly yanked out a folded page in the middle of the unbound notebook with her magic. Brought before everypony’s eyes, she opened it to reveal images of ponies who had been assaulted by the Changelings. Many of the pictures were gritty in their depictions of bruises and magic burns, but a goodly portion showed multiple bites on many of the ponies. They were identical to those on Rainbow Dash. “We’ll talk about what this means later,” Twilight said rapidly. “Right now I’m going to need everypony’s help to make the antidote. If we don’t do it in time, she might assimilate.” Her voice was hard-edged with the dire urgency of the situation, and each of her friends took immediate action. Rarity, Fluttershy, and Spike began sorting through the newer library books for the recipe; Pinkie aided Twilight in organizing her beakers and mixers, and Applejack sorted through Twilight’s potions cabinet as ingredients and directions were shouted across the room. Although first appearing chaotic, they all quickly settled into a rhythm to concoct the complex and fickle antidote. Judging by the blue tint in Rainbow’s eyes by the time Rarity gingerly administered the syrupy violet liquid, they had barely finished in time. Massaging Rainbow’s throat with magic to force her to swallow, Rarity and the rest leapt back with collective gasps as Rainbow’s breathing returned to normal with an accompanying fit of coughing. She leaned heavily over the side of the sofa, vomiting a small amount of the antidote. “What the hay was that?” she asked upon wiping her mouth with a hoof. “An antidote to keep you from becoming a Changeling,” Twilight said. “We all thought you had been bitten. Is that where the bite marks and that dried goopy stuff came from?” “Is Aurora really using... Changelings...?” Fluttershy asked, shaking at the word alone. Twilight had been expecting to Rainbow to regain most of her energy immediately; if not outright jump into the air and declare war on Aurora. But exactly the opposite happened. Rainbow’s eyes journeyed to her slime-coated hoof, lingering there for a worrisome amount of time. Applejack was about to say something—likely some blunt quip—but was stopped short as Rainbow’s eyes began to quiver. Uncharacteristic tears began to run down her face; a deeper emotion leaking through them. “Why did it have to happen that way?” she asked herself and to the room at large. Her tears added no waver to her voice, but there was a clear note of somepony recently shaken to their core. “What happened exactly Rainbow dear?” Rarity approached her softly. “Yeah, its okay Rainbow. You can tell us,” Spike added, for once not attempting to charm Rarity; instead genuinely concerned for Rainbow Dash. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose!” Rainbow looked up finally, her eyes pleading. “And it was only a Changeling, so it doesn’t really matter right?” “You have to start from the beginning,” Twilight said, only slightly confused. Her analytical mind was starting to piece together the events that would leave the stalwart Rainbow Dash in this state. “We can’t help if we you don’t.” “It came out of nowhere,” Rainbow said, wiping away her tears with her clean hoof. “What else could I do? I attacked it.” “The Changeling?” Pinkie asked, the only one in the room who had not yet grasped this. “Duh,” Rainbow said, though the lack of normal swagger made it sound hollow. “It put up a good fight, and probably would have eaten me, but I... I... I punched it in the chest. It... broke open. My hoof went right through. I didn’t mean it to do that, but I... I killed it.” So that was it. Rainbow Dash had killed the Changeling, and the truth of the act was still sinking in. “But it was just a Changeling,” Twilight offered the best consolation she could come up with. “If you hadn’t, it might have gotten you.” “That’s the problem!” Rainbow exploded in her friend’s faces. “I shouldn’t feel like this! Why!?” Her friends all took several steps back. None of them had the answer, as none of them had ever killed a creature before, and the most they could do now was give Rainbow room to vent. She’s a tough mare, Twilight assured herself. She’ll make it through. But this did not appear to be the case. Rainbow returned to silently and tearily staring at her organ-mucked hoof. Of Rainbow’s friends, Pinkie seemed to be the least affected by her outburst. She plopped herself comfortably beside Rainbow on the sofa, a wide grin on her face. “You’ll be okay Dashie!” she said cheerily. “We just to need to wash that hoof, then get you laughing again! Laughing and parties cure everything!” “No Pinkie!” Rainbow shouted at her, causing the cotton-candy pony to lean back in shock. “None of you understand!” she bellowed at the rest of them from the air. “I killed it! Why is that torturing me like this?! WRAH!” Rainbow Dash sped out the library door, shooting skyward before Twilight or any of the others could call her back. “Why is Dashie being so mean?” Pinkie sniffled, unaccustomed to her friends rejecting her preferred panacea. “She’s confused Pinkie,” Applejack reassured her. “Confused and scared. I wish I knew what ta say to ‘er.” “Maybe she is distraught,” Twilight said grimly, “but Rainbow Dash would be the last pony to refuse help from us in a situation like this. Something about that ship is randomly interfering with the Elements. And I think I know somepony who could tell us how.” ______________________________________________________________________________ The sun and moon were both being grasped by magic, which could only mean that Celestia and Luna were bringing upon the next phase of the eternal cyclical pattern of night and day. Chrysalis—for some time now—had been forced to rely upon her own senses of the magic employed by Luna and Celestia to determine whether it was night or day. The House of a Thousand Fangs remained in perpetual half light throughout all hours; unless of course there was a malfunction of the lighting system like yesterday. Chrysalis was inwardly grateful for her age and attunement to magic that came with it. Without this time given gift, she would be unable to tell when to give the call for her children to change from the day to night shift. They lived underground for the most part in their homeland, but even in such darkness, there was a natural change in the atmosphere as day became night. The beautiful inventions of nature such as this could not be felt aboard the dead wood and cold metal of Aurora Streak’s ship. Once Chrysalis felt the powerful Princess’s magic fade from the air, she activated her own pockmarked and twisted horn. Its green glow only colored her own face, its effect lost to that given off by Aurora’s magical lights. The spell was simple and subtle, and one that was normally used to wake and put to sleep baby Changelings in the first years of their lives. Used by Chrysalis and with a few modifications, it instigated a flurry of activity. Her children could be heard moving all throughout the ship to obey her command. The scuttling sounds of their hooves against the wood grain brought a pleasant smile to Chrysalis’s face. They were so much happier and more energetic—even in the mundane tasks Aurora would set to them—with the love in Ponyville to carefully feed upon. For so long after leaving the Badlands, Chrysalis had been forced to feed her elect entourage with love she herself had absorbed from Inky Jay and Aurora Streak. The whimsical Inky Jay had not known, for she absorbed the power while he slept. In Chrysalis’s own, far-reaching, opinion, his love was of the worst kind a Changeling could feed upon. He adored literature. To her, it seemed so tasteless and monochromatic; the sort of love that was only desirable when ignited by its source. It was a dormant love: one without the all-consuming power like she had tasted within Cadance and Shining Armor. Aurora had been little better. Her love was equally stale, tied as it was to her work and, oddly, machines. The only advantage to Aurora’s love was that she allowed Chrysalis to feed on it while she worked, giving it greater potency. This so happened to be the sole reason Chrysalis respected Aurora. To put so much trust in another being that might easily turn on one was either total naivety or complete confidence in one’s power. Aurora was no naive pony, so Chrysalis understood her to be confident in her creations, just as Chrysalis was herself confident in her children. Through this—and only this—did Chrysalis deign to work for her. As she made her way down the halls toward Aurora’s most frequented and largest lab—the one she had ordered be given even greater security than was already present in the doors—Chrysalis made a conscious mental shove to clear her head of those other thoughts. Why had Aurora chosen to lead their negotiations with those revelations? All it would have taken for an alliance would have been the demonstration Aurora had given afterwards. And why was Chrysalis tortured by the idea that her people were not of this world like its other denizens? Why did they have to be the sad results of one of Aurora’s early failed experiments? Clearly Aurora had meant the information as leverage, but Chrysalis stoutly refused to be moved by it. Even if Aurora was their true mother, not the legendary Faust, it still made them no less than any other species in the world. But perhaps it did. No, those thoughts were only seeds of doubt she had to squelch like one of her aberrant children. The Changelings were a noble and proud people, and Chrysalis would not see them brought low by something so insignificant, especially after they survived their defeat in Canterlot. As warding away these persistently negative thoughts was failing by the conventional means, she latched onto the one idea she had formed not so long after hearing Aurora’s account. The allicorn had been very vague in that tale, leading Chrysalis to believe there was something about the experiment she was withholding. It was not a perfect solution to her raging hurricane of thoughts, but it shielded her from them for the time being. So caught up in her contemplations was Chrysalis, that she almost stepped on Inky Jay. He was emerging from a room that led to a staircase which thereafter led down into a section of the ship for a crew quarters. He was actually wearing clothes, which struck Chrysalis as odd. She was not aware the pony owned anything save his many, many notebooks and pencils and pens. His attire was also not exactly what she had expected the writer to don for any occasion. He was in a snow white jacket, hood covering his mop of tangled hair, but allowing his light maroon ears to stick through. He had also gone through the trouble to brush his mane, turning it from an erratic trail of hair into a less-erratic trail of hair. The most his effort seemed to have was to eliminate the frizz that usually accompanied his mane and tail. “What are you doing out as late as this?” Chrysalis asked imperiously, wanting to be the first to have words in what would likely end as shortly as all their other conversations. “You are usually so eager to return to that simpleton’s trade with the pen.” Inky Jay’s heartfelt glare was lovely to behold, for it ignited his passion for the written word. The opportunity to feed was tempting, but Chrysalis contented herself with simply confirming that the power was indeed there. “I’m not one of those insects you lord over Chrysalis,” Inky Jay said smoothly. “I am, despite what you seem to think, my own pony, and I require at least some respect for it.” “You might require it young pony,” Chrysalis replied in her cultured, but reverberating, tone, “but understand that you stand in the presence of a queen. I will treat you as a monarch would treat any underling.” “You’re a queen of insects,” Inky Jay said, throwing back his hood to see her more clearly, “not one of ponies. Now move out of my way. Aurora gave me some much needed leave from the ship, and I am intending on surveying the town for good characters and locations. As late as it is, the last thing I need is your holeyness making me waste even more time and sleep.” “You insolent brat!” Chrysalis hissed. “How dare you show such disrespect!” “Being straightforward and being disrespectful are two very different things Chrysalis,” Inky Jay said plainly. “If you are so insecure as to be unable to tell the difference, then that is not my problem.” With a flip of his shoulders to place the hood of his jacket back over his head, Inky shoved past her. Ordinarily, Chrysalis would have struck the pegasus down with magic for his rudeness and disregard for the hierarchy of power, but due to Aurora’s constraints on her offensive magids, she was only able to swing a hoof at him. The resounding smack was not as satisfying as the flash of magic would have been, but her strength as a Changeling was more than enough to knock Inky Jay into one of the walls. He cried out—likely more from surprise than pain—and began rubbing a gingerly outstretched wing while he stood. “May that be a lesson to you to never offend those with greater power than you,” Chrysalis said authoritatively before turning herself back in the direction of Aurora’s lab. “I treat all equally until I have reason to do otherwise,” Inky’s voice scratched at her receding back, determined to have the last word. Chrysalis only shook her head as she rounded a corner, convinced that Inky would likely end up killing himself speaking as he did. She would not care in the slightest. His love was nothing compared to that in Ponyville and Equestria at large, and the Changelings would not miss him. Finally coming to the door to Aurora’s lab, Chrysalis pressed her hoof against a pedal in the floor directly next to it. This precaution was now routine ever since her Changelings had installed the new security Device. She stood stock-still, allowing the tapered end of a Device to stick it’s ugly brass self out of the wood at what would be a normal pony’s eye level. It emitted a brilliant white flash with the sound of sizzling energy, momentarily blinding Chrysalis’s already sensitive eyes. She stood only a few moments longer before the Device retreated back inside the superstructure of the ship and the door to the lab opened of its own accord. The lab was situated in the exact center of the ship, a grand expanse lit by five Devices crafted to look like chandeliers. They cast their mournful glow around a place cluttered with work tables—wooden things supported by thin iron legs—half-filled with brass and other parts or mounting perfectly ordered notebooks. The floor was at least free of obstruction, though the same could not be said of the walls. The elegant heads of Devices were scattered throughout their entirety, some for such simple purposes as communication while others were defensive weapons of some kind. Each motif of a Device indicated its purpose, but Chrysalis could only identify a few of these. On the far side of the lab were situated six inventions of some type which, while hidden by midnight blue sheets draped over them, towered to at least eight feet in height. They barely cleared the ceiling and would certainly not have fit through the door. Chrysalis had never seen what lay beneath those sheets, and she doubted Aurora would ever reveal them. She refused to even answer the most basic of questions about them. Even Inky Jay was forbidden from performing his duties as scribe when the machines were involved. Deep inside, Chrysalis hoped they were some horrible invention designed to reduce Celestia to ashes like a flower before fire. And it was not implausible, what with the seething grudge Chrysalis could feel from Aurora whenever Celestia was even tangentially mentioned. Aurora Streak herself was at her favorite task. She was standing in the center of the room, surrounded by selected work tables. Most of them bore the many parts of Devices, though the one she currently faced was filled with three books and a seemingly random pile of old paper. She had also donned round flight goggles and jagged silver circlets with sapphire gems in their centers around her ankles. She ignored Chrysalis for the moment, pressing and holding her foot against a panel in the floor. It rotated the portion of floor she was standing upon with a whine of magic, only stopping her before her desired table when she lifted her hoof off it. With her eyes partially hidden by the goggles, Chrysalis could only guess the allicorn was inspecting the table’s contents. “Do you know why I make my Devices so large, Chrysalis?” Aurora asked, not glancing up at the Changeling queen. “Considering that so many of the parts are so small and require so little space, why do you suppose it so that my devices are usually half the size of a pony?” “I am in no mood to play this game Aurora,” Chrysalis said sharply. “And you never are either. You remain silent at your work, unless you request that foalish brat of a pegasus to record something.” “Indeed you are correct Chrysalis,” Aurora said stiffly, lifting the goggles from her face with a hoof. “But you have not fed for a day now, and I am giving you the opportunity to spike my passion for your dining pleasure.” “I and my children have no need of you or your scribe any longer,” Chrysalis said coldly. “The love within Ponyville is of the same kind that rests over all of Equestria. It is the strongest I have ever experienced, and it is far more potent than the hollow passion you possess for your machines.” “You are becoming better at throwing out your insults,” Aurora Streak said amusedly. “You should know though, that my attention can be grasped by other means.” “I already had your attention,” Chrysalis said flatly. “The insult was no such thing, but the truth.” “But you meant it so,” Aurora said. “Do not lie. You are speaking to a unicorn who honed her skills from the simple taunts of a peasant, to the silk-coated daggers of a noble.” “You are not a unicorn,” Chrysalis said evilly, latching onto Aurora’s mistake with pleasure. She had never heard the allicorn make the mistake before, but it opened up interesting possibilities about Aurora’s past. But rather than back-step with horror at revealing so much, Aurora simply said, “Yes, I did say that. I suppose you could call it denial, but be assured, Chrysalis, it is not leverage.” “Be that as it may,” Chrysalis said without allowing the idea to die within her, “but you are steering the conversation away from the reason for my visit.” “And for good reason,” Aurora Streak said defiantly. “I am not interested in defending my decisions, least of all to you.” “You are well informed,” Chrysalis admitted. “Though I should have known. We are are within your realm after all.” “Would things be any different were I in the Changeling’s hive?” Aurora asked pointedly. “They would not,” Chrysalis said. “But you must listen to me. Clearly you are set on making a good impression to these ponies, but you must be wary of Twilight Sparkle. She has a keen mind, and will easily see through any farce you display.” “I know,” Aurora said, unconcerned. “Is that all you wanted? To warn me about Twilight Sparkle?” “Yes,” Chrysalis said, posing the response as another question to coax more information out of Aurora. “I chose her for that very reason,” Aurora Streak said. “If she truly is like my ‘benefactor’, she will have probably seen through the ruse already.” “She is nothing like Celestia,” Chrysalis said intensely. “If anything, she is more perceptive. And why would wish for her to discover us!?” “You misunderstand,” Aurora said simply, clearly becoming impatient with the conversation. “If my plan is to succeed, I need Twilight to doubt me. I can proceed to placate her with privileged information, which will ultimately lead to her and the others becoming obsolete. I will not reveal you, for you are only a passenger in this endeavor, much like Inky Jay. Your reward will come for easing my daily burdens. Now, if you ever question my plans again, I may very well decide to reveal you and throw you and your lot onto the streets of Ponyville. I have no qualms about destroying my first creations, especially if they choose to go against me. The created is not to oppose the creator.” “You are every bit as insolent as your scribe!” Chrysalis growled, her temper wearing thin. “No, Inky is merely frank,” Aurora corrected. “I am being both frank and issuing order as is my right. Do not to presume to take them for one in the same.” Chrysalis considered this would be an optimal time to leave their alliance in the dust and demand that if Aurora did not reveal more of the Changelings’ past, she would leave with her children. However, she also considered that she and she alone was responsible for placing herself in this position. She had known her pride as a monarch might be stung, and she had submitted anyway. This simple request for patience—for that really was all Aurora Streak was asking for—was only a test of her endurance. Such tests were easier when she was the one in control, but she was determined to overcome this one and be stronger for it. “Good,” Aurora said with finality, correctly interpreting Chrysalis’s silence for consent. Chrysalis turned to leave, her resolve set to wait a little longer before she approached Aurora again about their positions. But beside that, she had noticed in her subconscious that one of her children had not returned to its bed. If it was hurt, she would need to tend to it, and with this process of thought, the Changeling’s well-being was pushed to the forefront of her mind. Aurora and her conniving strategies were allowed to rest peacefully in the back of her mind, while she checked to be sure no other Changeling’s were unaccounted for. “And Chrysalis,” Aurora said unexpectedly before the Changeling queen had fully left the lab, “do not become deluded about your growing power. Ponyville and Equestria may offer you greater sustenance then either myself or Inky Jay can provide, but bear in mind that my Devices are not of the same natural magic you might use to usurp me. I still possess the upper hoof.” “I do not need reminding of your pathetic bid for strength,” Chrysalis hissed before striding with royal purpose from the doorway. Her anger boiled beneath her skin despite her attempts to push it down. It burned her soul to no end that Aurora Streak spoke the truth: that the Devices could protect her weak and powerless frame against just about any sovereign of repute. As she drew nearer to the place her mental map of her children’s whereabouts indicated the injured Changeling had last been, her anger was beginning to subside. The mare had only spoken as she did to re-instill respect of the Devices in Chrysalis. She had to admit, she likely would have done the same thing were she in Aurora’s position. But any thoughts of willingness to work with Aurora vanished the moment she came up into the hallway. One of her dear subjects, one of her dear children, was lying sprawled out in the middle of the corridor, its fluids having drained out onto the wood some time ago. It was a lifeless husk, and Chrysalis trembled with hatred and anguish at the sight. She did not care if she was heard outside the ship. She did not care if Aurora Streak heard her in her weakest of states. Chrysalis howled in pure, uncontrolled agony for the death of one of her precious Changelings, tears streaming down her face and the rest of the hive agitated by their queen’s distress and fury.